


Inoculated for the Apocalypse

by AVegetarianCannibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, M/M, Season 2, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies, have sex or die trope, it started as crack, nonlinear storytelling, semen as medicine, sex as medicine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-12-23 04:38:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 13,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11982291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/pseuds/AVegetarianCannibal
Summary: Will and Hannibal narrowly escape a rabid zombie horde on the streets of Baltimore. Hannibal has a rather inventive way to vaccinate Will, but zombies aren't the only danger they face.





	1. Thursday, 7:52 AM

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after "Su-zakana," and before before the Randall Tier case. (This is different from how it was originally posted on my Tumblr.) Occasionally uses non-linear narrative. Please see chapter titles and/or notes at the beginning of the chapter.

Will looked over the zombie bite on Hannibal’s forearm for probably the thirtieth time since they’d gotten back to Wolf Trap. It looked angry and red, like any injury of that nature would, but the surrounding tissue looked normal and didn’t feel feverish to the touch. It wasn’t verging on purple with blackened veins radiating from it, like the wounds of the infected they’d seen.

After redressing the wound, Will untied Hannibal’s wrists and ankles.

“You must be feeling safer if you're setting me loose,” Hannibal noted.

Will shrugged. “If you suddenly feel like eating me, let me know.”

“The others turned within moments of being bitten,” Hannibal reminded him. “If I were going to turn as well, it would have happened—” He glanced at the clock by the bed. “—nearly twelve hours ago.”

Will shuffled into the kitchen to put on some coffee. Just because they were in the middle of a zombie apocalypse didn’t mean they couldn’t caffeinate themselves like civilized people.

After a few moments, Hannibal followed him.

“I’ve been considering it while you were asleep,” Hannibal said, “and there’s a distinct possibility that I’m immune to the contagion.”

“That’s a bit of a leap,” Will said, dumping an extra scoop of fresh grounds into the filter. “Maybe you just weren’t bitten badly enough for infection.”

“My attacker drew blood,” Hannibal said. “I’m certain it was badly enough.”

“So why you?” Will asked. “Alana wasn’t immune. Jack wasn’t immune. There’d have to be a reason.”

Hannibal glanced away, his face studiously blank.

Will narrowed his eyes at him. “You _know_ why, don’t you?”

“What do the zombies and I have in common?” Hannibal asked.

Will thought about it for a while. At first, nothing came to mind. The ones he'd seen were like wild animals, mindlessly attacking. Hannibal was anything but mindless. Then he saw Hannibal licking his lips, and the realization hit him with the hard brightness of a lamp falling on his head.

“Oh my God. Because you both _eat people_. Fucking hell!”

“It may be an immunity that I’ve developed over decades,” Hannibal said. He gave Will an intense look, full of unknown purpose. “It’s an immunity I’d like to try to pass on to you, Will.”

Will flailed. “I don’t have decades to eat people!”

“That…wouldn’t be how we’d do it.”

“Then how?” Will asked.

Hannibal threw off his robe, baring his naked body under the paltry kitchen lights. “Anal sex,” he said. “That’s how.”


	2. Wednesday, 10:34 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened the night before?

Will was having a hard time stopping himself from shaking. He felt like his legs were going to give out from under him. The only thing keeping him from falling as he walked into his house was Hannibal’s steady hand in the small of his back—a warm, reassuring presence he could feel even through his layers of clothes.

“We…we should have brought them with us,” he said.

“They were bitten,” Hannibal reminded him. “They turned almost immediately once they were attacked. We couldn’t risk bringing them—and the infection—with us.”

“What if there’s a cure later, though?” Will asked.

Hannibal took him by the shoulders, gripping him firmly until he looked up to made eye contact. “You must let go of your guilt, Will. It won’t serve us now.”

The dogs milled around them, sniffing their clothes. Will suddenly remembered they were covered in potentially infectious gore.

“Get back!” he snapped at the dogs for their own good.

They scattered to different corners of the living room, watching him with concerned expressions. He felt like a real shit heap for scaring him like that, but the alternative was possibly worse.

“We should get cleaned up,” Hannibal said.

Will gestured up the stairs. “You go ahead and go first. Feel free to use any clothes or towels up there. I’ll make sure the house is safe.”

While Hannibal showered, Will took off his outerwear and stuffed it into a plastic garbage bag. Then he grabbed his shotgun and took the dogs outside. He instructed them all to stay close by. The last thing he needed was for Buster to go chasing after a zombie, which was absolutely what would happen.

He also got some extra tools and kerosene lamps from the barn to bring inside, and checked the perimeter for any signs of the horde that had seemingly overrun Baltimore. So far, at least, it seemed Wolf Trap was beyond zombie reach.

By the time Will got back inside, Hannibal was done with his shower. He’d put on an old flannel robe Will had forgotten was up there, and his face was pink and gleaming from the heat of the water. His expression looked undeniably grim.

“What is it?” Will asked.

“Bad news, I’m afraid,” Hannibal said, and pulled up his sleeve.

There, on his forearm, was an unmistakable bite wound, still oozing the faintest trace of blood.

“Adrenaline,” Hannibal said. “I didn’t even feel it when it happened. When I struggled with Alana, she must have bitten me.”

"At least now you know what it’s like for people to eat _you_ ,” Will said with an exhausted laugh. Then, more seriously: "I'm tying you the hell up, though."


	3. Thursday, 8:15 AM

Will poured himself a cup of coffee, waited a minute or two for it to cool a bit, then drank half of it before he felt like he could process what he’d just heard. All the while, Hannibal was still standing there, buck naked, arms held slightly akimbo in a distinct posture of display.

“Anal sex,” Will finally repeated. “You think _anal sex_ is the answer.”

“In the interest of full disclosure, there _may_ be other methods of inoculation,” Hannibal said, “but this would probably be the most expedient way of giving you my antibodies, as giving them to you orally may require a lengthier buildup than time allows.”

Will downed the rest of his coffee. “Just to be clear, here. Your method of inoculating me is to inseminate my _ass_.”

“To save you from zombies,” Hannibal emphasized. “I’m free of any diseases, if that’s your concern.”

“Any reason why we couldn’t accomplish the same result with a cup and a turkey baster?” Will asked. “I have one that I use for sucking the gunk out of the garbage disposal.”

Hannibal winced with obvious distaste, but recovered quickly. “Freshness may be important,” he said. “Best it come from the source.”

Will sighed. “Okay, you remember the second time we ever met and I said we should keep things professional? _This_ is the kind of thing I was worried about.”

“How prescient of you,” Hannibal said, failing to hide a smile. “Do you want the vaccine or not?”

“Fine,” Will said, “but I gotta go take care of things first.”

After he’d gone to the bathroom and made a reasonable effort to tidy up his hindquarters, he went back downstairs and kicked off his boxer shorts. He crawled up onto his bed and bent over, leaving his shirt on for the time being. He felt ridiculously exposed, as one would with one's rectum on display.

“All right, let’s get going,” he said.

“You might prefer to be on your back for this,” Hannibal said behind him. Will gave him a confused look over his shoulder. “My penis has a slight upward curve that would reach your prostate better in that position.”

“Is my prostate a part of the cure?” Will asked.

“Not _per se_ ,” Hannibal said. “But it’s rude to have a party and not invite our closest friends, Will.”


	4. Thursday, 8:49 AM

Will, lying on his back with a pillow under his posterior and his knees drawn up to his chest, stared at the ceiling while Hannibal got him ready for the…inoculation.

“I suppose I could have done this part myself while I was in the bathroom,” Will said to make conversation, which wasn’t easy with two well-lubricated fingers in his butthole.

“Nonsense, Will,” Hannibal said, glancing up at him with a friendly smile. “I’m a full-service physician.”

Will rolled his eyes and settled back with his arms crossed under his head. He was determined _not_ to enjoy this. He _wasn’t_ enjoying this. Was he? No. No, definitely _not_. Not even when Hannibal thrust in deep with his middle finger curved _just so_ and his palm firmly and rhythmically massaged his perineum. Nope, definitely _not_ enjoying it in the slightest.

Zombie apocalypse or not, he was supposed to be entrapping Hannibal. “I’m a good fisherman, Jack,” he’d said just a few weeks ago. After everything settled down again (and there was no reason as yet to believe it wouldn’t) he would get back to proving Hannibal was a cannibalistic serial killer.

Just then, Will heard someone moaning.

“Mmmngggph.”

He realized he was the one moaning.

“God _dammit_ ,” he said under his breath.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Hannibal said. “After all, I’m very good.”

“Oh for crying out loud! Would you just get on with ‘inoculating’ me?”

“Eager, are we?”

“All right,” Will said, rolling into a sitting position and dislodging Hannibal’s hand. “I’d rather just take my chances with the zombies if this is how you’re gonna be.”

Will got out of bed and started up up the stairs to let the dogs out of the spare bedroom.

“I’m sorry!” Hannibal called after him. “I was merely trying to lighten the mood.”

Will paused on the landing. He really _was_ tempted to just forget the whole thing, but who would take care of his dogs if he came down with the zombie infection? Alana was now one of the undead herself, and he really had no other friends. Except Hannibal, and Will wasn’t really sure he could count on him to keep the dogs safe through an apocalypse.

He could, however, count on Hannibal to fuck him in the ass.

“No more jerky commentary?” Will called back.

“I’ll do my best,” Hannibal replied, “although I know better than to promise.”

Will sighed and jogged back down the stairs, fully aware of how silly his dick and balls looked flopping around beneath the hem of his T-shirt like some kind of fleshy bell clapper.

He got back into bed and assumed his earlier position.

“Why don’t you take off your shirt?” Hannibal asked. “You’ll just get it sweaty.”

“I’m not going to get _sweaty_ ,” Will said. “I’m just going to lie here while _you_ get sweaty.”

He did not, in fact, just lie there.

He fully intended to cold-fish his way through the whole thing, but damned if Hannibal hadn’t been right about the upward curve of his dick being just right to hit a fool’s prostate. Will wriggled and writhed and kicked his heels into the mattress so hard he thought he might have broken a slat in the bed frame. By the end of it, he was as sweaty as he’d ever been, which was enough to fill a small inland sea.

After Hannibal came, he was courteous enough to collapse to the side rather than directly on top of Will.

Red-faced and a touch out of breath, Hannibal said, “You might feel an instinct to evacuate your bowels, as if you’d just received a warm enema, but do try to hold it in.”

Will cringed, but clenched his butt cheeks together.

“Thanks for the, uh, inoculation,” he said.

“Any time. Well, any time after a refractory period.”

Hannibal swiveled around to change his position and Will suddenly found a cannibal’s mouth hovering over his dick.

“Whoa, whoa,” Will said, reaching down to cover himself.

“I just thought I’d help bring you off,” Hannibal explained.

“You’re not going to eat me, then,” Will said.

“Not in the literal sense,” Hannibal said, “although I _will_ swallow a portion.”

It turned out that the one thing Hannibal was better at than fucking was giving head, and Will never even felt the tiniest hint of his considerable fangs. True to his word, he was a swallower.

“We should probably see if there’s any news on,” Will said once he’d gotten his voice back.

“I’ll go start another pot of coffee,” Hannibal said, sounding far more chipper than anyone in the middle of a zombie apocalypse had any right to.


	5. Thursday, 3:05 PM

**Thursday, 3:05 PM**

_Jeannie, we and all the news teams in the area are being ordered by the military to clear the airspace over Baltimore, but we’re going to try to maintain position over the outskirts of the city until we’re told to keep away from there, too. So that’s why we’re not able to get any new footage of people, uh, eating other people. But believe me, it’s … it’s pretty ongoing._

_For viewers just joining us, the National Guard has erected partial barricades around the city. It’s not clear if they’re letting anyone out at this point, but the official word is that they are definitely not letting anyone in. I repeat, you will be turned away at the barricades if you manage to get that far._

_Hotlines are being set up, I’m told, for information but those numbers haven’t been released yet. We’re very early into this…this uhh…well, this zombie apocalypse. I don’t know what else to call it. To repeat what Jeannie and Salvador told viewers earlier, there is no official word yet on what caused the outbreak._

_As you can see, there are multiple fires burning downtown and fire crews and EMS are not being allowed in to make rescue efforts. We’re going to hold position here and keep reporting live to you from the scene here in Baltimore._

_This is Rob Courtney with SkyTeam 11. Stay tuned for continued coverage of the apocalypse. Back to you, Jeannie and Sal._

*********

Will sipped his coffee, watched the ancient TV he kept in the second guest room, and continued to keep his butt cheeks clenched together. He was on his third “inoculation” so it was becoming an increasingly difficult task.

Hannibal appeared with a tray of poached eggs, toast and orange juice Will didn’t even realize he had.

“Any developments?”

“Just the same thing we heard earlier,” Will said, turning down the volume. He bit into a slice of toast. “We should be rationing this. We have no idea how long this chaos will be going on.”

“I have a safe house with supplies,” Hannibal said. “North of here, near the coast.”

“Of course you do,” Will snorted.

Out of the corner of his eye, Will recognized a face being shown on the news broadcast.

“Is–is that Dr. Sutcliffe?” Will asked.

“I believe it is,” Hannibal said. He didn’t even glance at the TV.

Will was immediately suspicious, and turned the volume back up.

_—ceived an anonymous contact to this station from someone who identified him or herself only as “Dr. L” via a series of untraceable text messages. The man you are seeing on your screen is Dr. Donald Sutcliffe who, as some of our viewers may recall was murdered just about four months ago by, as it was only recently uncovered, none other than the Chesapeake Ripper, Dr. Frederick Chilton._

Will huffed out a laugh at that. Hannibal said and did nothing.

_We realize that’s a lot of doctors’s names to keep up with, and this unconfirmed report is, of course, unconfirmed at this time, but we here at the station feel this information may be important to our viewers._

_Dr. L texted us—and we’ll have a graphic for you—texted us that Sutcliffe, a neurologist, was working on life-prolonging measures that involved a protein called a prion, as well as retroviruses. After Sutcliffe was murdered, this “Dr. L” believes that, now without supervision, one or more of the infected test subjects escaped into the populace…._

The report went on, but Will was now focused solely on Hannibal, who was primly munching on toast points dipped into poached egg yolks as if nothing were wrong.

Will, on the other hand, was seething. “The guy you murdered and temporarily _framed me for killing_ is the creator of the zombie virus.”

“It appears so,” Hannibal said.

“You’re Dr. L, anonymous tipster.”

“Just doing my part,” Hannibal said.

Will flailed. “Your ‘part,’ Hannibal, is partly responsible for this outbreak! Jesus! I could _strangle_ you right now.” He noticed Hannibal’s erection poking hopefully out of his robe. “Could you at least have the decency not to be _turned on_ right now?!”

“I could ask the same of you,” Hannibal said, with a downward glance.

Will followed his line of vision, down to his own traitorously hard dick. “Damn it!”

He grabbed Hannibal’s food and all but threw it onto the nightstand.

“Get up.”

“Are you going to strangle me?” Hannibal asked, sounding perhaps a bit too intrigued by the prospect.

“No, I’m gonna fuck you,” Will said.

“But I’m already immune,” Hannibal reminded him. "There’s no medical reason.“

Will rolled his eyes. "For Christ’s sake, you asshole, I’m going to _hate_ -fuck you, not _medically_ fuck you!”


	6. Wednesday 5:40 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to the day Baltimore was overrun.

Jack had called him and Alana to Hannibal’s office to discuss something—a case, perhaps. Whatever it was, Will would never know, because the city of Baltimore chose that precise moment to lose its shit.

A screaming mob chased them up the steps, their voices barely human. Will only got a glance at a few of them as he ran. Most of them looked like they'd just gotten off work, still wearing their suits and coats, except for one guy in a vaguely military-style black outfit. He had an infinity symbol tattooed on his throat, which Will noticed because it was just below a fresh bite wound. The only thing all their would-be attackers had in common was that their skin was streaked with ropy black veins. He craned his neck for a better look, but Jack pulled him inside and barred the door shut.

Alana’s eyes were wide. “What in the _hell_ is going on out there?”

Will could only shake his head, at a loss for words.

“I think one of them bit me! Son of a bitch!” Jack shouted as he clutched at the back of his neck. 

“Let me see,” Alana said.

Will helped Jack pull off his coat and jacket so Alana could get a better look at the wound. Radiating from the parenthetical shape of the bite marks were small, ropy veins.

“It looks infected,” Alana said.

“Not that quickly,” Jack scoffed. “That’s not possible! Not even Ebola moves that fast!”

But even as he said the words, he swayed on his feet and fell against the wall. Will darted forward to throw Jack’s arm around his shoulder, supporting him. He could feel the heat radiating from the wound.

Alana ushered them up the stairs and then to Hannibal’s office. She didn’t bother knocking before throwing open the door.

“Do you have medical supplies here?” she asked.

Hannibal looked up from his desk, saw Will struggling with Jack in the threshold and leapt to help Will hold him up.

“In my desk, the lowest drawer on the left,” he called over to her.

“He’s burning up,” Will said. “He was bitten by someone on the way here.”

“How long ago?”

“Four, five minutes tops,” Will said.

Hannibal frowned.

“A dozen people chased us down the sidewalk,” Alana said. She snapped on nitrile gloves and doused a gauze pad with alcohol. “It’s like they were rabid, but so much worse!”

She moved to clean Jack’s wound, but he suddenly lurched free and grabbed her. She screamed and fell backwards onto the desk.

Hannibal moved quickly, his actions a streak of movement that Will could barely process, and brought something heavy down on Jack’s head. When Jack dropped to his knees, Will saw the metal stag figure still in Hannibal’s hands. He raised it again, readying it for another blow, but Jack slumped forward onto the floor, unconscious.

“He bit me,” Alana said. “He…bit… he… Hannibal, I can feel the infection spreading already.”

“Do you have antibiotics?” Will asked.

“They wouldn’t do any good,” Hannibal said.

Will grabbed the gauze pad from Alana and held it to the bite wound just above her collar bone. As he watched, thin black tendrils began to grow just beneath the flesh.

“We have to get you out of here,” Will said. “My car is closest. We can go out the back; I don’t think the mob out there will see us.”

Alana nodded weakly, her cheeks already flushed with fever.

Before they got halfway back down the stairs, Alana screamed. Will barely had time to look up before she lunged for him, teeth bared.

In an instant, Hannibal was between them, shielding Will with his body. He had Alana by the shoulders, just out of reach of her snapping jaws. An animalistic anger burned in her eyes. Will wouldn't even recognized her if he hadn't already known her. He watched in horror as the veins in her eyes turned black.

“Will, your car,” Hannibal said calmly. “Go start it. Drive as closely to the back entrance as you can. I’ll try to restrain her. _Will_ , _go!_ ”

Will snapped out of his confusion and disbelief, doing as he was told.

When Hannibal made it to the car, Alana wasn’t with him.

“I couldn’t bring her,” he explained.

Will nodded. “We’ll go to my house.”


	7. Thursday, 8:37 PM

Will was exhausted, his ass was a little sore, and he was probably approaching a dangerous level of dehydration, but he had no desire to move. Hannibal appeared to be in much the same state.

“You knew antibiotics wouldn’t work,” Will said. “Back in your office, when Alana and Jack were bitten. You knew the cause of the infection, and you knew antibiotics wouldn’t help.”

“I suspected,” Hannibal said.

“Did you also suspect you were immune?” Will asked. “Did you think you were safe when you jumped in front of Alana to protect me?”

“I wasn’t thinking at all,” Hannibal said. “I suppose I just wanted to protect you.”

Will’s desire to move was starting to come back.

“Let’s check the news again,” he said, “then get some food and water in us.”

“Then make plans from there?” Hannibal asked.

“Yes,” Will said, “but also then fuck again.”


	8. Thursday, 10:15 PM

“I have to shower,” Will said. “I feel like the truck stop bathroom floor just under a glory hole.”

Hannibal looked like an offended bird.

Will rolled his eyes. “I mean to say thank you for ‘inoculating’ me to this point of sticky filthiness, Doctor.”

That smoothed his ruffled feathers a bit. “Shall I join you?”

“No, you keep watching for any updates,” Will said, gesturing to the TV. “Maybe take the dogs out, too, if you don’t mind.”

Alone in the shower, Will had time to think for the first time since…well, since the whole zombie outbreak started. Jack and Alana were infected, possibly dead or beyond saving. He wondered if he would be more upset about it later, after the shock wore off. There was still a sense of unreality to it all. He made a mental note to call Zeller and Price to maybe meet up with them and join resources. Well, maybe just Price.

*****

Clean and just achy enough for it to be enjoyable, Will padded downstairs to find Hannibal sitting on the bed with the dogs all around his feet. He had his phone in hand and a worried expression on his face.

“I took the dogs out,” Hannibal said, “and gave them a little something for their evening meal.”

Will was surprised at just how touched he was to hear that. “Thank you. Truly.”

“The networks are overloaded,” Hannibal said. “I haven’t been able to get through to…anybody.”

“Try again later,” Will said. “Keep your phone charged just in case the power goes out, although I have a solar charger we can use in the morning.”

“We won’t be here in the morning,” Hannibal said. “The latest news had the zombies moving in this direction.”

The ache in Will’s body suddenly felt less pleasant. “In retrospect,” he said, “I suppose we shouldn’t have spent so much time fucking.”


	9. Friday, 1:22 AM

Will strapped most of their supplies to the roof of his Volvo: kerosene lamps, his solar charger, blankets, shovels, an Igloo cooler of clean water. The rest, mostly food and guns, he packed inside. Hannibal had assured him that his “safe house” to the north had plenty of supplies, but Will felt it was better to be over-prepared just in case. With internet and phone service spotty, they had no real way of knowing what lay ahead.

When he went back inside, he found Hannibal packing up bags of kibble and dog bowls.

“You’re packing for my dogs,” Will said.

“Was I wrong to think you’d want to bring them with us?” Hannibal asked.

Will shook his head. “I-I guess I just assumed you’d try to argue me out of it.”

“You assume too many things about me,” Hannibal said. His tone was light, cheery even, but Will could detect the note of hurt in it.

He was hit by a feeling of tenderness towards Hannibal that he hadn’t felt…well, in a really long time. Maybe not since he’d walked into Hannibal’s office after the fight with Tobias Budge and seen him looking wounded and sad. Now, as then, he wanted to reach out and—

Winston let out a low growl.

Almost at the same moment, Buster started barking at something beyond the window. The spiky hairs on his shoulders stood up like quills, and his short tail vibrated with agitation.

“Something’s out there,” Will said.

“The infected may have reached us,” Hannibal said.

They both went outside, Will with his shotgun at the ready while Hannibal stuffed the dogs’ supplies into the car. At first, nothing seemed unusual, but then, underneath the sound of the nightbirds came an uneven but quick succession of footfalls in the distance.

“We need to go,” Will said, but Hannibal was already running back into the house for the dogs.

The next few minutes went by in a blur. Will wasn’t sure of the exact sequence of events even as they happened. There was a flash of Hannibal running past him, carrying a dog under each arm. There was a burst of light that he thought must have been the firing of his shotgun, though he wasn’t even aware of pulling the trigger. There was a face, maybe a man’s, streaked with black veins, coming at him fast.

“ _Will!_ ”

He heard Hannibal scream his name, but found it oddly difficult to turn towards the sound of it. The right side of his jaw hurt, though it was a distant pain. His fingers came away bloody when he reached up to touch it.

Someone or something pulled him up off his feet, turning his world upside down in a nauseating whirl. Instinctively, he kicked his feet, trying to get free.

“Will, stop struggling,” Hannibal said somewhere above him. “Just let me put you in the car!”

In the next instant, he was upright in the passenger seat of his Volvo and Hannibal was shining a light into his face.

“You’ve been bitten by one of the zombies. I can't tell how badly, but enough to break the skin.”

“That explains the blood,” Will said, feeling weirdly giddy. “It’s okay, though, because you inoculated me a _whooole_ bunch. Boy, that was fun.”

Hannibal didn’t stop looking worried. “We have to hope enough time has passed for the antibodies to take hold.”

The giddy feeling gave way to a roiling sickness and a searing fever that radiated from the bite wound in his jaw. When he touched his face again, it was so hot he was surprised he didn’t smell meat cooking.

“I don’t think enough time has passed,” he said.

“You’ll fight off the infection,” Hannibal insisted.

“You have to leave me here,” Will said. He gestured to the back seat where the dogs had been all but piled on top of one another. “Take them—promise me you’ll protect them as long as possible—but take them to wherever your safe house is.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Hannibal snapped. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Will was going to be offended at that, but the fever had spread. He felt it like fingers of fire reaching into his skull, boiling his brain. The explosion of pain made his encephalitic headaches seem mild in comparison. He opened his mouth to ask again to be left behind, but only a strangled scream came out. The dogs whined in a chorus of worry.

Hannibal tied his wrists together with something and clicked his seat belt into place. He started the car, then grabbed Will roughly to him, and kissed him hard on the mouth as he was still screaming.

Will thought about how silly it was that they hadn’t even kissed until just then, then his whole world went black.


	10. Timestamps Unknown

Will dreamed that Abigail came to visit him as he lay in some feverish purgatory between humanity and total zombification.

“I just wanted to tell you goodbye,” she said.

“Am I going to die?” he asked.

“No, I think you’re gonna get better,” she said. “But I didn’t really get a chance to tell you goodbye last time, and I didn’t want to miss out again.”

“It’s nice to see you,” he said. “Even if you _are_ a figment of my imagination.”

She laughed softly and sat on the edge of his bed. “You really _are_ sick, aren’t you?”

“A zombie bit me,” he said.

“Yeah, Hannibal told me,” she said. “He said your body is fighting off the infection, but he just blushed and scooted me out the door when I asked him how that was possible. He never really seemed like the blushing type before.”

“Oh, he fucked me bare in the ass,” Will said. He tried to give a wave of his hand, but realized he’d been strapped down to his bed. “It turns out doing butt stuff with Hannibal might be mankind’s salvation.”

Abigail made a slightly horrified face, her mouth falling into a small _oh!_ and her eyes glancing away.

He laughed. “If you weren’t dead, I’d probably be more embarrassed to tell you. I mean, you know I think of you like a daughter. I would never tell my _living_ daughter that Hannibal’s dick hit my prostate and made me see stars, or that I had to keep my cheeks clenched afterwards so all the jizz antibodies wouldn’t leak out, or whatever. Or that it was the noisiest, _squelchiest_ sex I have ever had. Like, have you ever been walking through the mud in rubber boots and your boots keep getting stuck?” He made some wet suctioning noises with his mouth to illustrate.

Abigail’s hands flew up to her mouth and she sprang up off the bed. “Oh God!”

“I know, I know,” he said. “ _Way_ TMI! Good thing you’re dead, right?”

“Will, I’m not dead,” she said from behind her hands.

He laughed. “That’s _exactly_ what a hallucination of a dead person would say.”

After that, he drifted in and out of consciousness. He was occasionally aware of Hannibal fussing about, checking on him, touching his face and taking his vitals. He wanted to lean into every touch, but his head had been strapped down, too.  Once in a while, the dogs would hop up on his bed before Hannibal shooed them away. Buster, in particular, seemed indignant at being shooed.

He thought he could hear the ocean somewhere near, the crackling roar of waves hitting rocks. He remembered Hannibal saying his safe house was near the coast.

He woke up one morning (he thought it was morning, anyway) feeling ravenous—and not for living human flesh.

“No more fever,” Hannibal said, undoing all the straps that had been holding him down.

“You haven’t taken my temperature,” Will pointed out.

“I can smell it,” Hannibal said, sitting beside him.

Will snorted. “Ah, of course. How long was I out?”

“Nearly two days now,” Hannibal said.

“And the zombie apocalypse?” Will asked.

“Still raging, from what I’ve been able to gather from spotty radio transmissions.”

Will giggled. He knew it was awful, terrible, highly inappropriate, but he couldn’t stop himself. His first thought was that he wouldn’t be entrapping Hannibal for Jack Crawford anymore. His second thought was that he wouldn’t have even without the apocalypse. For some reason, it just struck him as hilarious that it only took the end of the world to make him realize how he felt about Hannibal.

Hannibal looked confused. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Will said. “Hungry, _starving_ —but fine.”

Hannibal got to his feet. “I’ll make you someth–”

Will grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. He felt ridiculously weak considering it had only been two days, but he managed to get Hannibal’s face in his hands and kiss him as he should have kissed him much earlier.


	11. Saturday, 8:15 PM

While Hannibal jaunted off to make something to eat, Will dragged himself into the en suite bathroom.

The face looking back at him gave him a shock: most of his right cheek and jaw had been shaved, and the bite wound had been closed up with nine sutures. A small tube poked out from the lowest edge of the wound, allowing it to drain. The skin around it was faintly red,  bruised, and tender to the touch. His attacker had gotten him a lot worse than Alana had gotten Hannibal’s arm. Even when his beard grew back, there would be a visible scar—and a fairly ugly one, at that.

“At least you’re not dead,” he said to himself.

By the time he wandered back into the bedroom, Hannibal had returned with food for them both. It was a shockingly meat-free dinner of oatmeal with brown sugar and a nearly obscene amount of butter. Will shoveled down spoonfuls of it as they sat together in the bedroom that had served as his hospital, there in the safe house Hannibal had told him about. He’d been right about the ocean; it was mere yards away and a hundred feet down. Hannibal had cracked open a window so he could smell it as well as hear it.

Will briefly considered licking his empty bowl before he noticed Hannibal was staring at his own untouched food.

“Not hungry?” Will asked, only just managing to stop himself from grabbing Hannibal’s bowl. “Is it because there’s no people in it? There’s no people in it, is there?”

Hannibal poked at his oatmeal with his spoon. “I…don’t know what to do with myself, if I’m being perfectly honest.”

Will sucked butter off his thumb. “What do you mean?”

“While I was seeing you through your fever, stitching you up, I slipped into the familiar role of physician. It kept me from slipping into the unfamiliar terrain of worry. What comes next? Would you die? Would you heal, and leave?”

When Hannibal looked up, his eyes were wet with tears. His upper lip twitched in a failed smile.

Will set both their bowls aside and pulled Hannibal over to sit with him on the bed.

“I was going to trick you for Jack Crawford,” Will confessed. “I mean, it was going to be for me, but Jack was involved. I’d get you to make a mistake or reveal yourself, and have him cart you off to jail.”

Hannibal gave a short, bitter laugh. “And now you can’t because he’s a zombie?”

“And now I can’t,” Will said, “because I can’t.”

Hannibal said nothing to that, and just went on looking at him with a mingled expression of confusion and joy kept at bay.

Will sighed.

“Okay, look, I’m not the best at talking, so how about I just show you?”

With that, he straddled Hannibal’s lap and pushed him back against the pillows.

All their previous times in bed together (and one time on Will’s living room floor) had been somewhat rushed affairs. Less attention had been paid to foreplay than to getting down to the business of Hannibal’s “inoculations.” Of course, back then—all of three days past—Will had still been trying to convince himself that they were engaging in medical procedures. Well, and that one time that was clearly a hate-fuck after Will had learned Hannibal was partially, inadvertently responsible for the current state of the zombie apocalypse.

 _This_ time, Will was determined to make it last. Surely the apocalypse could spare them an hour. Plus, he didn’t have enough of his health back for an energetic romp.

So he slowly unbuttoned Hannibal’s endearingly rumpled shirt and kissed every bit of skin as he exposed it. The plentiful hair was softer than he imagined, and he wondered how he’d resisted touching Hannibal like this until then. He reached down to scoot Hannibal’s pajama bottoms down around his thighs.

“Don’t— _ah!_ —don’t pull your stitches,” Hannibal admonished when Will opened his mouth over the nearest hipbone. “All my careful stitchery will be for naught.”

Will pulled up just long enough to say, “Yes, Doctor,” before going back to work.

He nosed down the softly carved V of muscle and into Hannibal’s springy pubic hair. He took a slow, deep breath. No scent of soap at all. He didn’t have anything near Hannibal’s sense of smell, but he could tell when someone hadn’t showered recently. The image came to him as if he were immersing himself in a crime scene: _Hannibal, nearly always at his bedside, taking no time to look after himself…_

“I’m gonna give you the blow job of your life,” Will said, bold as could be.

“No, Will, your stitches really _will_ pull,” Hannibal said. “I’m incredibly well-endowed.”

Will laughed. “I can’t believe you’re bragging about your dick right now!”

“It’s a statement of fact, Will, and of concern for your wounds.”

He reluctantly acquiesced, stripping out of his own clothes while Hannibal, still lying flat on his back, watching him with that misty-eyed adoring expression Will didn’t think he would ever get used to.

Will shook his head in momentary disbelief that this was the giant cannibal nerd he was apparently going to spend the zombie apocalypse with.

They lay down on their sides, facing each other, tangling their legs together in a search for closer contact. While Hannibal dotted his face with sweet feathery little kisses, Will took both their cocks in hand and began stroking them together. Hannibal’s kisses were interspersed with gasped _oh_ s and _oh-oh_ s, and of course Will’s own name muttered like a mantra.

Hannibal came first and snaked his hand between their bodies to take over for Will. Fingers slicked with his own semen, he pumped Will’s still-hard cock with his own. The friction…the intensity of such closeness…the wet, sticky heat of it… Will grunted and groaned unprettily, panting into Hannibal’s open mouth, and bubbled out an orgasm that left him shuddering and drained. It wasn’t the most intense climax of his life, but he judged that it had to be the sweetest. He fumbled around until his lips found Hannibal’s.

“See? The zombies waited,” he said when they parted.

“I’ll be sure to send them my thanks,” Hannibal said.

********

Will wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was aware if he didn’t start moving soon, he would fall asleep. It would be just his luck to be knocked out in a sex coma when the zombies made their way north.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. “I guess you never inoculated Alana.”

“We used condoms,” Hannibal explained. “Luckily, Abigail has the antibodies already, thanks to a diet similar to my own.”

“Yeah, luckily,” Will agreed. He frowned and replayed in his mind the last bit of what Hannibal had said. “W-wait a minute. Did you say Abigail? Abigail _Hobbs_?“

"What other Abigail could I mean?” Hannibal asked, frowning up at him in confusion. “You spoke with her when you were ill.”

Will shook his head. “No, I _hallucinated_ speaking with her. At least, I _thought_ I hallucinated her! Holy shit, Hannibal, are you telling me she’s alive? And here?!”

“She’s outside with the dogs,” Hannibal said. “Or she was, before you and I…reconnected.”

Will wailed in agony. Hannibal rushed into action, checking his pulse and temperature, but his sudden onset symptoms was not of a physical nature.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Hannibal! I thought I was imagining her! I told her all about you slopping semen into my ass!“ The memories came rushing back at him with a force that nearly threw him from the bed. He reeled as he suddenly remembered in horrible, horrible detail everything he’d said to her. "I-I compared my ass to a pair of muddy galoshes! I MADE SOUND EFFECTS, HANNIBAL! LOUD, SLURPING, SQUELCHING SOUND EFFECTS! Oh dear God! _OH DEAR FUCKING GOD!_ ”


	12. Saturday 9:44 pm

“Will, calm down,” Hannibal said, following him as he stumbled out of bed. “I’m sure Abigail understands.”

“It’s not a matter of her _understanding_ ,” Will said. He pulled his clothes on from heaps on the floor. “I think she _understands_ perfectly well what I meant!”

He couldn’t stop replaying in his mind the soul-shatteringly _horrible_ sex sounds he’d made for what he’d thought was an imaginary Abigail. Now that he knew she was alive and real, her utterly dismayed reaction would forever be etched in his memory along with the wet _splorching_ he’d demonstrated for her. Of all the hideous things she’d witnessed in her life, for her to still react with such revulsion…

“Abigail!” he called out. “Abigail, please, I need to talk to you!”

He paused before running into the the rest of the house.

Did he smell like jizz? Quick sniffs of his hands and arms confirmed it: he definitely smelled like jizz.

“Hold on!” he shouted aimlessly.

He ran back into the bathroom and scrubbed his hands, then dampened some toilet paper to do his best with the dried spunk all over his belly and crotch.

Hannibal stood in the bathroom door way. “You have a little here, too.”

Will looked where he was pointing and found the spot on his temple. Good Lord, how had it gotten so far up there? He scrubbed it away, doing so as carefully as possible so as to not disturb his wound. He lifted up his hair to check for any on his ear…

He turned to face Hannibal. “Wait. You cut off her _ear_.”

“She…volunteered it,” Hannibal said, glancing at the floor. “I’m—”

“Oh, don’t bother apologizing now,” Will said. “I obviously already knew _your_ part in it and I still fell–I still decided to be with you.”

He couldn’t find the words to explain that his anger—as sudden and unexpected as the news of her existence—was directed at Abigail. He’d had time to get over what Hannibal had done. Or, if not get over, at least accept as part and parcel of whatever kind of…weird… unique relationship they had. But finding out Abigail was still alive and that she hadn’t been  unwitting…Well, the news and the hurt felt shocking and new. It felt like it had just happened.

He stomped into the spacious room that overlooked the bluff, and found the dogs curled up cozily in their beds. Buster sat up to look at him and barked a greeting.

“Abigail!” Will called again.

Winston got out of bed and padded over to him, all smiles and lazily wagging tail. At first Will was going to shoo him back and head for the front door, but then he saw the piece of paper tucked into Winston’s collar.

Will plucked it out and unfolded it. 

 

_Dear Will,_

_It seems cheap to say I’m sorry like this, but I hope that you know I am. I did what I did knowing we’d all be together some day and that it wouldn’t be possible otherwise._

_But it seems like the world is ending, you know? And that sort of changes things. This might be my last chance to be on my own, and it’s not like the cops are going to notice me in the middle of a zombie apocalypse._

_I’m taking Hannibal’s car. I know he’s got plans and doesn’t need it. I’m sorry for leaving without saying good bye but I knew you two would be “busy” for a while and I had do it before I could talk myself out of it._

_It’s not forever, I think. If we all survive, we’ll meet again. Hannibal knows where and when._

_Yours truly,  
Abigail_

 

Will felt a cold wave of shock replace the anger he’d felt only moments earlier. He couldn’t have remembered feeling angry even if he’d tried at that moment. He just knew she was gone again. Suddenly,  it made sense, the way she'd said goodbye to him when he thought he was only dreaming her up.

“What is it?” Hannibal asked.

Will could only hand him the letter.


	13. Sunday 12:05 AM

They spent two hours packing the Volvo with supplies from the house by the bluff. Over that time, Will learned Hannibal had bought it within a day of his trial starting, going through a number of hidden channels and aliases so his identity couldn’t be tied to it. The place had belonged to a mobster, once upon a time, who was so worried about getting caught that he'd built in multiple ways of escape. There was no safer "safe house" for them.

“The plan,” Hannibal said, “was that if I had to break you out, we could go here for a time, all three of us.” The goal, as Hannibal saw it, was that they would all be together eventually. As he saw it _now_ , that plan hadn’t changed. It had merely been…delayed, on account of the zombie apocalypse.

“Still, we should go after her,” Will said.

Hannibal took him by the shoulders. “She’s never had a moment’s freedom in her life. This may be her only chance, whether the world ends now or rights itself to its previous order.”

“But it’s dangerous out there and–”

Hannibal’s hands moved up to the sides of his face. “In case you’d forgotten, our girl is quite a deadly creature herself.”

Will accepted the ensuing kiss to his brow with a sigh. He didn’t like it at all, but he knew Hannibal was right. Abigail was a trained hunter, good with a gun, handy with a knife, and more than a little skilled at self-preservation.

“Just… reassure me she knows how to find us.”

“We have a small house on the southern coast of Nova Scotia,” Hannibal said as he secured the dog beds to the roof. “She understood that if we were to become separated, we would meet there.”

Will raised a brow at that. “We’re going to drive to Nova Scotia?”

“We’re going to _sail_ there,” Hannibal said. “In the well-outfitted boat I bought for you at the same time I bought this house.”

Will raised the other brow. “You bought me a new boat?”

“Not new,” Hannibal said. “A Catalina 42 Mark-2, just under ten years old. I thought it might draw less suspicion if I bought a used boat.”

Will let out a low whistle. “Still, that had to have set you back a hundred grand!”

Hannibal gave him a sparkling smile. “You shall have to teach me to sail it as repayment.”

“I’ll do more than _that_ ,” Will said, reaching over to grab him by the hips.

With the worst sense of timing in the world, the radio, which had gone silent some time earlier, suddenly blared out an emergency broadcast.

_The President of the United States has declared a state of emergency in Maryland, Virginia, West Virginia, Delaware and North Carolina. Residents of these states are directed to shelter in place. Do not attempt to leave your homes. Martial law has been declared. Martial law is in effect until further notice. Do not attempt to leave your homes._

Will let go of Hannibal with a pained sigh. “Guess it’ll have to wait.”


	14. Sunday, 6:20 AM

Will’s new boat was a lovely thing, and spacious, as well. Or, rather, it _would_ have been spacious for two or three people. For two people and seven dogs, it was going to be a bit cramped. Most of the open space was now occupied by the dogs, their beds and “potty pads” for their bladder-emptying convenience. If Will stopped to think about it, he was still terribly touched that Hannibal so gamely accommodated them.

Blessedly, they had encountered no traffic at all on the way to what turned out to be a private dock about two miles from the house at the end of a sharply twisting road. He imagined the story would have been much different if they’d tried to escape by highway— _if_ they’d been able to get near a highway at all. In the far distance, towards the more populous areas of the state, Will could just make out the hovering black shapes of helicopters.

“Are we ready to set off?” Hannibal asked.

“I think we forgot something,” Will said, rifling through the supplies they’d brought.

“Is it something important?”

“Kind of _really_ important, yeah.”

Will lifted up bags of kibble, scanned through boxes of food and batteries, patted down first his own pockets and then Hannibal’s. There was no sign of it anywhere.

“Not that I object to being frisked by you,” Hannibal said, “but perhaps I could help if you told me what you were looking for.”

“The lube,” Will said. “I can’t find the lube!”

*******

“We could make do without it,” Hannibal said, even though they were already on the road back to the bluff house.

Will shook his head emphatically as he drove. “I’m not dealing with a chafed asshole during the apocalypse—either yours _or_ mine.”

“I meant we could find other means of lubrication,” Hannibal said, “or simply not engage in penetrative sex.”

Will shot him a disbelieving look. “That’s very unscientific of you.”

Hannibal blinked. “Pardon?”

“What if I need booster inoculations?” Will asked. “You can’t know for sure! And you can’t know we’ll find ‘other means’ when an emergency strikes.”

As he pulled up to the house, Will happened to glance at the rear-view mirror. A sullen orange glow was licking towards the sky from the western horizon. Something big was on fire—maybe the entire city. Two of the helicopters in the distance didn’t seem quite as distant anymore.

Hannibal must have seen the look of worry on his face. “What is it?”

Will got out of the car and nodded toward the helicopters. “Does it look like they’re headed this way to you?”

Hannibal cocked an ear in their direction. “Looks like it, and sounds like it, as well.”

“We’d better hurry, then,” Will said, and bolted for the house. "And grab anything else we might be able to use!“

"As lubricant?” Hannibal asked.

“As anything!” Will shouted over his shoulder as he ran into the bedroom. Hannibal took off in the other direction.


	15. Sunday, 6:41 AM

He’d just closed hands on the lube bottle when Hannibal started calling to him from the front door. He’d never heard Hannibal sound so frantic. Which was to say he would have sounded completely normal to anyone else, but Will knew him better than that.

Will was shocked to see the smaller of the two helicopters coming in for a landing with little more than a soft thumping of the air around it. It was solid black and completely unmarked. He’d never seen—or heard—a model like it.

“It sounded much farther off than it was,” Hannibal said as Will came up beside him.

Will glanced from the helicopter to his Volvo, but knew there was no chance they’d make it in time, and they’d simply be outrun anyway.

As the helicopter touched down and the blades slowed to a halt, a man in all-black flight gear stepped out and strode towards them. 

“John Sands,” the man introduced himself as he drew near. He had icy blue eyes and the hint of a tattoo peeking out from behind his collar. He looked right at Hannibal. “Dr. Lecter. We’ve been looking for you.”

Will felt Hannibal tense beside him. There was no use pretending Sands had the wrong guy. Nobody else on earth looked like Hannibal.

“How in the hell did you find him?” Will asked.

“We followed _you_ , Mr. Graham,” Sands said. “We traced the source of the zombie infection to the late Donald Sutcliffe’s laboratory. He left notes suggesting that, in the event of his death, his friend Dr. Lecter be contacted. When we couldn’t find him, we followed you, Mr. Graham, as Dr. Lecter’s attachment to you was quite clear from his own records. Thank you for using your credit card down the road a ways, by the way. Took us a little longer to track the number than usual, civilization being what it is right now.”

Will shot a glare at Hannibal.

“We needed fuel,” Hannibal said to Will, ignoring Sands. “I borrowed your card while you were unconscious.”

“Unconscious,” Sands repeated. His hand hovered over his sidearm, and his eyes went to the wound on Will’s jaw. The pieces fell into place for him. “You were bitten and Dr. Lecter cured you.”

“Well, that’s not exactly—”.

Hannibal touched his back and gave him a look that said, “ _Don’t tell him about my sex vaccine_.”

By then, the second helicopter was landing in the road beyond the house approximately a hundred yards away. This one, much larger and noisier than the first, was a MEDEVAC unit bearing Army markings. The co-pilot, in camouflage gear, stepped down with his weapon already drawn.

“You’re not with them,” Hannibal said to Sands.

Sands smiled. “I’m not with the Army, no,” he said. “But we have a mutually beneficial goal, which involves you— _both_ of you—coming with us.”

At once, Will flashed on his dogs, all waiting for him back on the boat. Buster was smart enough (and perpetually hungry enough) to figure out how to break into the kibble bags, but none of them would be able to get to fresh water once their bowl was empty.

“We’re not going with you,” Will said. “So just fuck back off from wherever you came, and we’ll go our own way.”

Sands gave the smallest of nods to the Army man at the second helicopter. At the signal, he turned to the Volvo and shot out the two rear tires.

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere, Mr. Graham.”


	16. Friday, 2:00 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to what happened soon after Will was bitten.

When he looked down at his body, he barely recognized it. The skin looked pale and blotched with purple, like a bruised corpse, except in places where the veiny ichor had taken hold of him. Black, oozing tendrils wrapped around his fingers and wrists, curled up his arms and branched across his chest.

He didn’t feel feverish anymore. His face didn’t hurt where he’d been bitten. If this was what being a zombie was like, maybe it wouldn’t be _so_ bad. Sure, he was ugly as hell, but he still felt like he had most of his wits about him. Maybe because of Hannibal’s “inoculations” he wouldn’t end up like Jack or Alana or the one who’d bitten him.

Maybe he could control it.

For some reason, he was back in his little house, in his simple bed. He didn’t remember going back there. He also didn’t remember taking his clothes off, but there he was, naked as the day he was born. His dick was also purple now, which was somewhat worrisome, but it felt mostly normal when he touched it.

“Hannibal?” he called. His voice sounded more like an animal screeching.

Nonetheless, Hannibal appeared at his side. He was naked, too, Will couldn’t help but notice. Will thought it was funny that he hadn’t really stopped to consider Hannibal’s physique while they were…medically fucking. Of course, he’d been trying to convince himself that that’s all it was at the time. Now, he let himself realize it was actually a really… _really_ nice body.

It was muscular and firm, but not _hard_ except for where it mattered. It was a body someone could call tender.

Tender… and _delicious_.

Will was aware that his mouth was watering, except it was the black ooze that spilled out rather than saliva. He could just picture himself grabbing hold of one of Hannibal’s forearms and chomping his way all around the bones, as if he were biting corn off the cob.

“You shouldn’t come near me,” he tried to say. “I’ll eat you alive.”

But Hannibal just sat on the edge of the bed. With one hand, he stroked Will’s side. He held the other hand within reach of Will’s snapping jaws.

“You need to eat,” Hannibal said.

Without really meaning to, Will tore off three fingers in one bite, and all the while Hannibal kept stroking him and smiling.

*******

Will jolted awake.

He was still in his car, still tied up, and still twisted into agony by the dual assaults of fever and pain. He wanted to scream, but the side of his face was so blazing hot and swollen that he couldn’t move his jaw. He barely managed a whimper.

He only realized Hannibal had been gone when he got back into the car. Dimly, Will could tell they were at a gas station, parked at a pump under a flickering fluorescent light.

With great concentration and even greater effort, Will managed to speak in a broken whisper. “Y-you h…ave to p-put m…e… out of mmmy mmmisery, Ha…aan…i...” It was more than he had in him to finish saying Hannibal’s name.

Hannibal turned in his seat to look at him and smooth the hair off his sweating brow.

“I’ll always do my best for you, Will. Even if it doesn’t seem like it at the time.”

Will groaned, because he was pretty sure that meant Hannibal wasn't going to give up on him now.


	17. Sunday, 7:00 AM

Hannibal stepped forward to address Sands. Will reached out instinctively to grab his hand and hold him back. “I presume you have infected patients,” Hannibal said, “and I presume them to be wealthy or high-ranking individuals if both private and government resources have been combined.”

Will saw a small flicker of indecision cross Sands’s face as he tried to decide how much information he could divulge.

“There are patients aboard,” he finally said. “It’s imperative they be treated, and _successfully_.”

“I will examine them, here,” Hannibal said, “on the condition that you let him go.”

It took Will a second to fully grasp what Hannibal had proposed. Panic and anger flared simultaneously. "That’s–that’s unacceptable!“ He lowered his voice. "If you get on that helicopter, they’ll never let you off again.”

Hannibal leaned in close to kiss him—first on the lips, then on his cheek just above the wound. "They won’t have a choice,“ he whispered.

Suddenly, he grabbed Will roughly by the waist, grinding their hips together. At first, Will was a little taken by surprise. Was now _really_ the time for frottage? Then he felt it: the hard, curved shape of a blade tucked into Hannibal’s front pocket.

Sands grabbed Hannibal by the shoulder and gave him a hard shove over toward the MEDEVAC unit. Will waited for him to look back as he boarded, but he didn’t. The copilot shadowed him in.

"Are you going to let me go or not?” Will asked.

“Leaning towards _not_ ,” Sands said.

A minute or two later, he saw Hannibal glance at him through one of the helicopter’s small windows. Will read his expression as telling him to stall for time.

Sands unwittingly gave him an entree: “How’d he do it, huh? Gene therapy? Designer virus? Stem cells?”

“What, cure me?” Will asked. He laughed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Sands sneered. “You’re screwed either way, so you might as well.”

“ _You’re_ the one who’s screwed if you want what he gave me,” Will said. “You see, he fucked me in the ass raw. Technically it was more of an inoculation than a cure. But basically, his spunk saved me. Although, now that I have the antibodies, I could probably fuck you in the ass if Dr. Lecter’s not your type.”

Sands’s sneer faltered into something between horror and disbelief.

Will pressed on. “He’s better at it, though, if I’m being honest with you. More practice, I imagine. I mean, before a few days ago, I hadn’t had sex in over five years. Do you know why he has the antibodies?”

“We assumed Sutcliffe dosed him,“ Sands said, "as part of his experiments.”

“You assumed incorrectly,” Will said. “You see, what Hannibal is—aside from a surgeon, an imaginative lover, and a pretentious interior decorator—is a cannibal. He _eats_ people, just like those zombies do. Well, with a more stylish flair, but you get the idea. Over the years, he's apparently eaten enough of whatever kind of meat or organ Sutcliffe was using in his experiments to develop antibodies." Will made a slurping noise for emphasis.

Sands snorted with laughter. “That’s–that’s ridic—”

Will cut him off. “He’s going to eat you, too, Mr. Sands. Your liver, your lungs…all the tastiest bits of you. And I’m going to help him.”

Sands sneered at him again, and rolled his eyes. Will couldn’t blame him, really. It would sound like fiction to anyone who didn’t know better. It would sound like lies to anyone who had a modicum of sense. Whatever dark parties Sands had allied himself with, he seemed like a pretty sensible guy.

A scream came from inside the MEDEVAC helicopter, and it wasn’t Hannibal’s. Sands drew his gun, but it was too late. Whatever Hannibal’s plan, it had already been set into motion.

“ _Don’t you fucking_ _move_!” Sands barked over his shoulder as he ran for the helicopter.

Will held up his hands in mock obedience and gave Sands his best look of innocence.

Just as Sands reached the helicopter, the copilot came tumbling out, pouring blood from a gash in his abdomen. Sands, rather than catching him, dodged and let him fall to the ground even as he begged for help. The pilot, still inside the cockpit, tried to get to his feet, but a woman in a hospital gown leapt from the cabin and latched onto him. It all happened in a blur, but Will saw the black veins on her arms and the inky ooze pouring from her mouth as she bit into the pilot’s face.

Sands shot at her, but the bullets did nothing to slow her down. Black blood seeped through her gown as she feasted on the pilot.

The wide-eyed pilot on the smaller helicopter was perhaps even more sensible than Sands, and got the engine started.

A few moments later, five more infected patients spilled out from the MEDEVAC helicopter. Sands dodged them, too, even as he loaded a fresh clip into his gun. Two of them crawled into the smaller helicopter before it could get off the ground. The pilot shot at them, but they overwhelmed him in no time at all. Will could hear his gurgling screams over the stealthy whir of the blades.

Still more zombies came. Will thought he recognized the Speaker of the House and a media mogul among them. There may have been a movie star, but Will couldn’t be sure with half her face missing.

Will dropped to his knees and rolled behind a large rock on the patio. There was still no sign of Hannibal. What if… what if he’d sacrificed himself freeing the zombies so Will could make his escape? _What if…_

Finally Hannibal emerged in the helicopter’s open doorway. He stood, framed like the most perfect image of a Renaissance demon, triumphant. Red blood dripped from his mouth, glinted off his teeth. He was breathing hard from some unseen struggle, and his eyes shone with murderous intent. Will thought he might’ve never seen anything so gorgeous in all his life. He wanted to take Hannibal on the spot.

Then goddamn John Sands had to pop up and remind him they were still in the middle of being in danger.

“ _Don’t you fucking move!_ ” Sands screamed, aiming to shoot at Hannibal.

Will rocketed to his feet, not even knowing how he could save Hannibal but knowing he had to try, and dove headlong for Sands. They both hit the ground, but Will rolled away at once. Sands's gun went off, drawing the zombies’ attention away from their meals. The one who might’ve been an actress jumped Sands just as he was getting to his feet. As she tore the collar of his uniform aside, she revealed an infinity symbol tattooed on his neck. Then it disappeared beneath her gnashing teeth.

Hannibal ran over to Will, gathering him into his arms for an embrace that nearly knocked the breath out of him.

Will held Hannibal’s face in his hands. “Are you all right?”

“I bit the medic, then sliced through the patients’ restraints,” Hannibal said. “I think I may have been bitten myself in the process, but I’ll be fine.”

Will mashed a graceless kiss against Hannibal’s mouth. Then he added another, and another.

“We’re fucked, you know,” he said. “We can’t outrun them for long. We can’t take the car. We’re going to die here.”

Hannibal guided him to the edge of the bluff, glancing back to assure himself of their position.

“Do you trust me, Will?”

Will thought back to the night they’d stopped for fuel, while his fever raged and the dogs slept in the back of the car. He thought of what Hannibal had said to him.

“Did you mean it?” Will asked. “You said you’d always do your best for me.”

“For both of us,” Hannibal said.

Will glanced over Hannibal’s shoulder. The zombies had eaten their fill of Sands and the Army pilots, and had turned their attention to the fresh meat poised near the bluff's edge. First one of them broke into a jagged, limping run, then the rest followed…

“Yes,” Will said, “I trust you.”

He lay his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, and felt Hannibal’s cheek come to rest on the top of his head. With the slightest pivot of their feet, they pushed away from the ground, holding on to each other one last time, and fell towards the Atlantic Ocean.

Together.

 

 

-end-


	18. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It didn't end with the fall.

He knows that in high-adrenaline moments, the human brain's processes speed up so much that even a tiny fraction of a second seems to expand into so much more. It's some endowment of ancient evolution that allows one to figure out what to do before the lion can pounce. Will doesn't use his time that way, though. No, he notices the feel of Hannibal's shoulder under his cheek, the warmth where their bodies cling to one another. He thinks about his dogs again, with a pang of regret that expands along with the spreading of time. He thinks about being a little bit glad he won't ever have to socialize again, or feel a crushing pressure to seem just fine to people like Jack Crawford. Then he thinks, as laughter starts to bubble up inside him:

_"I can't believe anal sex saved my life and then ended it. If I hadn't insisted on going back for that lube--"_

His shoulder slams into the face of the bluff and Hannibal is shouting at him to grab onto...something? Grab onto what? 

His brain speeds up again and he realizes that Hannibal said something about a chain. Before he knows it, he's grabbing on to a rusted chain ladder that's anchored deep into the rock. The thick bolts above them strain with the impact, but hold. Rock dust and gravel rain down.

That's not all that rains down...

Before Will's managed to catch his breath, the first zombie is tumbling over the edge of the bluff. Another follows right after---it's the maybe-actress and she snarls the whole way down, her hands straining uselessly towards them up to the moment she hits the water. 

Three more fall in unison, and then the newly zombified co-pilot follows them. Will can't remember whether or not he already knew the infection would reanimate the dead, because that guy was _definitely_ dead a few minutes ago. He supposes it doesn't really matter. He clings as closely to the rock face with Hannibal as best he can, like they're just seeking shelter under an awning during a downpour. The zombie John Sands is the last one to go, driven by his new desperation for fresh meat to hurl himself at the only source of it he can find. He hits the water headfirst, at an angle that would kill him if he weren't already dead.

" _Asshole_ ," Will spits after him for good measure, then lets himself finally have that laugh.

* * *

**A Week Later**

They were anchored just less than 10 miles south of the coast while Hannibal waited for return word from his contact in Nova Scotia. Will thought he should be worried that the contact hadn't radioed back in over a day, but Hannibal was currently snoring softly on his chest and the boat was rocking gently with the waves. His shoulder still ached a bit, but his jaw felt just about 100% better, and he knew the dogs were snoozing peacefully in the salon and galley outside the door. He had a hard time worrying about anything just then.

Hannibal stopped snoring. "I can feel you thinking," he said, shifting so he could kiss Will's collarbone.

"Sometimes I wonder if we didn't survive," Will said, "and this is our afterlife."

"Heaven or hell?" Hannibal asked.

"Heaven, I suppose," Will said.

"The bed linens would be nicer in heaven," Hannibal pointed out. "I should have had a new set made after I bought the boat."

Will glanced down at the multicolored starfish festooning their sheets. "You don't really care about the bedding, do you?"

"Only about _bedding_ you," Hannibal said, sitting up so he could waggle his brows at Will.

Will groaned, but pulled Hannibal back down on top of him.

Pecks on the lips turned into soft, lingering kisses, which quickly turned into a desperate need to all but devour each other. Will bit lightly down the side of Hannibal's throat, then closed his teeth over the muscular join of neck and shoulder.

Hannibal threw him off. At first Will thought he'd bitten too hard, but Hannibal, wild-eyed and breathing hard, only moved to pin his wrists to the mattress and return the favor. Will struggled experimentally, but Hannibal held him fast.

"If you don't let me go, how am I supposed to blow you?"

"Your jaw," Hannibal started to say.

"Stitches came out last night," Will reminded him. "And you're the one who said I should do stretching exercises."

Hannibal seemed to think it over, but not for long before he was sprawling himself out on the mattress.

Will settled happily between his thighs and gave Hannibal's cock a few strokes before working the tip of his tongue along the slit. "Oh, Wuhh... nngggh," Hannibal said, and Will was pleased to have reduced him to nonsense syllables already.

Encouraged, he sucked the head into his mouth, flattening his tongue against the taut edge of Hannibal's foreskin. He circled his fingers around the shaft, squeezing on every upward stroke, letting his jaw slowly get used to the stretch. He lapped up the salty precome that began leaking out. He got another "Nngh!" for his efforts before realizing Hannibal was trying to say "No."

He pulled off and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Am I doing it wrong? I don't think I'm doing it wrong."

Hannibal gave a dazed shake of his head. "Doing it too _well_. It will all be over soon."

Will dug around in the cabinet nearest the berth and pulled out the precious, precious lube bottle. "Would you rather have  _this_?"

Hannibal nodded desperately.

"I don't know if we should," Will  _tsk_ ed. "We may have to make this last a long while if we don't hear from your contact that it's safe to come ashore. Weren't you the one who said we should find other means...?"

Hannibal grabbed the bottle out of his hand and tackled him down onto the mattress again. Will yelped with laughter.

He stopped laughing as soon as the first slick finger angled inside him.

By the time Hannibal got up to the third finger, Will was moaning and tossing his head back and forth like a man possessed. "Oh, Jesus, just hurry up!"

"We should make it last," Hannibal said.

"Oh, fuck you," Will said. He flung one leg over Hannibal's shoulder. "I'm not gonna _beg_ for your zombie-curing dick."

" _Inoculating_ ," Hannibal corrected him. "And you already are."

Will rolled his eyes. "For Christ's sake, just get in my ass, would you?"

He thought Hannibal would tease him a little more, but he got what he wanted and, by that point, _needed_. Will hoped he would never entirely get used to this, that it always seem new enough to make him see stars and push the breath out of him for a minute. That sensation of the long slide into his body, the feeling of being far too _filled_ that bordered on pain before it gave way to pleasure. Then there was the sound of Hannibal's shaky gasping as he tried to control his breathing before giving up and giving himself over completely, snapping his hips so his thighs jostled Will with every increasingly forceful thrust.

Will had just enough presence of mind to reach down and over Hannibal's back and hook a finger into his asshole. He pulled Hannibal into closer and closer contact that way, until it felt like their bodies were a single, sweaty, gleaming thing... When he wiggled a second finger inside, Hannibal gave a guttural shout. Will felt the hot spurts slicking his insides an instant later. He tilted up his hips to make sure not a drop slipped out.

"My turn," he said when Hannibal fell into a shuddering heap beside him.

He got up on his knees and stuck his hand between his thighs so he could catch all the mingled semen and lube. Hannibal watched in a daze as Will used it to slather his own cock.

"Recycling's the responsible thing to do," Will said

Hannibal, temporarily rendered mute, just nodded in agreement.

It was a tighter fit than usual, even, with as little preparation as Will had given him, but he took his time pushing in. Then he felt Hannibal clenching and unclenching around him and damned near came from just that. 

"I'm _trying_ to be patient," Will said through gritted teeth.

"I'm not," Hannibal said, and wrapped his legs around Will's waist to pull him deeper inside.

They ended up sort of gracelessly clinging onto each other, writhing on the mattress on their sides, face to face, their thighs tangled together as Will rutted into Hannibal like he was trying to get his whole body into that ass. Hannibal's hands were everywhere, first clawing at Will's back and hips, then at his shoulder blades and the nape of his neck before reaching into his hair to pull back his head so their lips could meet.

As soon as Will felt Hannibal's teeth on his lower lip, he came so hard he thought he might black out.

They stayed in that sticky, discombobulated mess longer than was probably wise, but Will could hardly bring himself to worry about the mess, either.

********

Will didn't realized he'd fallen asleep until he woke to the sound of Buster barking outside their door.

"He probably wants his walk around the decks," Hannibal said, his voice thick and groggy. "I promised him earlier."

They pried themselves apart from each other, crusted over with dried sweat and spunk as they were. It was like trying to pull apart the two sides of a grilled cheese sandwich after it had been left to cool. Will winced at his own mental image and decided not to share it.

Hannibal only bothered to put on underwear before leaving their cabin.

"Don't let Buster jump in the water again!" Will called after him. "It's too cold for a swim!"

Comforted in knowing that Hannibal was tending to the dogs, Will went to the head to relieve himself and sponge some of the worst mess off dick and balls.

He'd only just started to make progress when he heard something soft and heavy land on the deck overhead. 

"Hannibal?" he called out. "Are you all right?"

No answer.

A few seconds later, he heard a man grunting---and it wasn't Hannibal. Then there was another heavy thud.

Will busted ass running out of their cabin, not even caring that he was still naked. The dogs tried to follow him, but he hissed at them to stay put. He barely managed to grab his gun before vaulting up onto the deck.

"It's all right," Hannibal said. He was holding a furiously wriggling Buster under one arm as he nodded at something on the deck.

A man in a still-dripping wetsuit lay on his back, a bloody gash on his forehead and his neck bent at a horrific angle. His head lolled back and forth with the swaying of the boat. Will could hear the grinding of broken bones. 

Will scanned the water all around them, but couldn't see a ship anywhere, not even so much as a kayak. "Who the hell is--- _was_ \---this guy? Did he swim here all the way from shore?" 

"He's what Buster was barking at," Hannibal said. "Other than that, I can't say."

"Are you sure you should have killed him?" Will asked. "Maybe he didn't have nefarious intentions."

"I took Buster's word for it," Hannibal sniffed.

Will squatted down beside the body and unzipped the wetsuit far enough to see that the man's neck had been marked with an infinity tattoo. "Oh, hell."

"What is it?" Hannibal asked.

"John Sands had one like this," Will said, "and one of the zombies that attacked us in Baltimore, too."

Will got to his feet and peered as far as the horizon, but there was no sign of helicopters, either.

"How would they have known to find us here?" Hannibal wondered.

Then he locked eyes with Will and they said in unison: " _Abigail_."

"We have to go back," Will said. "If they have her..."

Suddenly, the corpse sat up.

Will flailed backwards, landing on his bare ass. "What the fuck!" As far as he could tell, the guy hadn't been bitten.

The corpse snarled and reached its hands out, feeling around like a blind man because, well, its head was dangling in such a way that it couldn't use its eyes. After a few moments, it felt along the sides of its neck and held its head upright so that it could see.

Will scuttled away like a crab. "What the fuck, WHAT THE FUCK, _WHAT THE FUCK!_ "

Somewhere between remembering he still had his gun in hand and shooting the thing right in the middle of its face, Will noticed that although it was certainly a zombie, it _didn't_ have the black dripping veins traversing its flesh like the others had. This, whatever it was, was something new... new, or _changed_.

It fell to its knees and weaved back and forth as if merely dizzy before dropping dead a second time. 

Hannibal calmly handed Buster to Will, then set about cutting off pieces of the corpse and setting them aside. Once he'd collected what he needed or wanted, he shoved the remains into the ocean.

"We'll find Abigail," Hannibal said. "If she hasn't killed all of them by then, we'll finish the job ourselves."

Will nodded up at him, then over at the tidy pile of zombie body parts. "Y-you're not going to _eat_ that, are you?"

"Not all of it," Hannibal said. "First I'm going to study it for mutations or new strains of the infection."

Will felt a little sick to his stomach. "But you  _are_ going to eat it?"

"To boost my immune system," Hannibal said. He reached down to pull Will to his feet. "And then, dear Will, I'm going to inoculate you. I'm going to inoculate you _so_ many times."

Will sighed, and tilted up his head for a kiss. Suddenly, the future of the zombie apocalypse was looking just a little bit brighter...

 

-the end-

**Author's Note:**

> This began as [the dumbest zombie trope I could think of](http://avegetariancannibal.tumblr.com/post/162006408524/the-dumbest-zombie-trope-hannigram-idea-i-could) over on my Tumblr, and sort of spread...like a zombie infection.


End file.
